If the whole hidden bar trend seems kind of played out these days, here’s one that suggests it was hardly a new concept to begin with.

Tucked away on the Fairmont Royal York’s mezzanine level, York Station isn’t just the best little hotel bar you’ve never heard of, it’s noteworthy for a few other reasons as well. It certainly has to be one of Toronto’s smallest (total seats 24, eight of which are at the bar), while its static 1970s decor should make it of historic interest to interior design students. Besides that, it’s got some civilized drinking hours — Monday to Friday, 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Blink and you’ll miss it. It’s also the only bar we know where the bartender will happily don an engineer’s cap, toot a train whistle and send a little model train on one of its regular runs around the ceiling.

Elina Budzinski is our willing host and, come March, she’ll have been 23 years at the switch. The whistle was a gift from an English couple — part of what Budzinski calls her “small following from around the world.” Closer to home, she has a core group of loyal regulars who come to drink the old school Manhattans and martinis she’s known for.

While it can be tough getting a seat during cocktail hour — some spots at the bar even get reserved — this is about as far from being a scene as one could imagine. Arriving midday, we find a sedate meeting taking place in one corner, an elderly couple enjoying a dry martini and the soup and sandwich special, and one festive tippler who can’t stay long owing to that last train to Beamsville. Neither is it strictly a grey bar, either. By the end of the work day, the Station has provided comforting ritual to clutches of lawyers, stockbrokers and bankers before they head to Union, so sadly lacking in bars.

York Station is the only train-themed bar in Toronto explicitly catering to commuters. Lucky for us, it takes its task seriously. It’s modelled after a club car and decorated with a hodgepodge of Canadian Pacific memorabilia. Leather seats and dark wood accentuate the unmistakable 1970s aesthetic, and we spot a bottle of what looks like original Cherry Heering, from back when that was in vogue the first time around.

Even the prices are sort of retro, with three-ounce drinks costing a few dollars less than at other bars in the hotel. Budzinski points out that her Manhattan doesn’t come with the fancy trimmings such as the gourmet cherries they use downstairs at the Library Bar. That’s OK. Red-dyed maraschinos can only add to the authenticity. In this case, we wouldn’t want the good kind.